I PICKED up my jangling cellphone one recent Saturday to hear the elated voice of Zachary, my longtime buddy and college classmate. “I just proposed to Caroline,” Zach announced, inviting me to the wedding and angling to plot logistics. “So when are you flying in?”
“Oh, I’m not coming to your wedding,” I said.
It’s true. I’m boycotting all heterosexual weddings.
How utterly absurd to celebrate an institution that I am banned from in most of the country. It puzzles me, truth be told, that wedding invitations deluge me. Does a vegan frequent summer pig roasts? Do devout evangelicals crash couple-swapping parties? Do undocumented immigrants march in Minuteman rallies?
Heterosexual ladies and gentlemen, please. Don’t mail me that wedding invitation. It’s going straight to the bin.
Searching for Whitopia: An Improbable Journey to the Heart of White America author Rich Benjamin calls on LGBT Americans to boycott heterosexual weddings this summer, regardless of who is marrying. “Yes, our boycott may bruise some feelings. But then again, our inability to participate in this institution is hurtful and bruising, too.”
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